


Mississippi Burning but different

by MozartKing



Category: Mississippi Burning (1988)
Genre: Gen, Language, Racist Language, Segregation, marriage abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-16 03:50:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21501415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MozartKing/pseuds/MozartKing
Summary: What if Rupert Anderson treated Alan Ward different in the filmPS: I don't own the dialogue, most of it's from the film
Kudos: 2





	1. Introduction to Anderson and Ward

The ride down to Mississippi was something that many FBI agents didn’t plan on doing. They didn’t want to get into the chaos that spreads throughout Mississippi, mostly due to the Ku Klux Klan having fights with journalists who want a damn story and others having fights with damn photographers. That is until the news spread that three Civil Rights workers went missing in down town Mississippi.

Alan Ward was driving his car with the windows down due to the heat. He was stuck with an older man, who was one of those stereotypical Mississippians that was either tough or could break your jaw when you didn’t give him a straight fucking answer. That was Rupert Anderson. Anderson looked through stacks of photos, journals of newspapers, and a piece of music that the Klan made. He picked it up and started singing it.

“Now, listen to all you communists and niggas and Jews. Tell all your buddies to spread the news. Your day of judgement will soon been nigh. As the lord in his wisdom looks down from on high. Will his battle be lost by mixin the races? We want beautiful babies, not ones with brown faces. Never, never, never, I say. Cause the Ku Klux Klan is here to stay. These Ku Kluxers are better with lynchings than with lyrics,” said Anderson laughing at the song.

Ward looked over with disgust, wanting him to shut up. “Just read the file, Mr. Anderson. I can do without the cabaret,” “you don’t like me much, do you, boss?” questioned Anderson. He looked at the younger man like someone who looks down at their son and questions why they don’t act more like him.

“Sure I like you, I just don’t share your sense of humor” said Ward, looking at Anderson like he was annoyed. Anderson understood him but wondered why he didn’t like his sense of comedy, “sometimes that’s all you got left. How long you been in the bureau?” asked Anderson, giving Ward a smartass grin but at the same time curious.

“Three years” said Ward, “right out of college huh?” “No. From the Justice Department” said ward, looking at the older man. “Kennedy boy, now I see” smirked Anderson and looking back to the window of the car

“No, I don’t think you do see. Let’s get this thing straight. I haven’t had a pimple in years, I shave every morning. I even go to the bathroom by myself, so you can quit this “boss” stuff. They put me in charge because I’ve been through this before” said Ward, glaring at Anderson and giving him a tone that meant he didn’t take shit from anyone, not even Anderson

“Birmingham? Montgomery?” asked Anderson looking at Ward, “Oxford. I was with Meredith at Ole Miss” said Ward looking at the main window of the car. “Got hit in the head with a brick, so they gave you a promotion, right?” asked a smartass Anderson

“No. shot in the shoulder,” said Ward. He looked at Anderson, and saw his smile disappear. “Well, at least you lived. That’s important” said a grinning Anderson  
“No, Meredith lived. That’s what’s important” said Ward who didn’t want to talk about it anymore. As they kept driving, Anderson looked out the window and saw the sign saying ‘Welcome to Mississippi,’ “what’s got four eyes and can’t see?” asked Anderson looking at Ward. “What?” asked a smirking Ward

“Mississippi” said Anderson laughing, “Never, never Never I say Cause the Ku Klux Klan is here to…” sang Anderson making Ward laugh and smirk with him.


	2. Starting Information

They drove into a small but comfy little town, but most of it was older folks that had a deep southern vibe. They stopped at a sheriff’s department, “big building for a small town,” said Ward looking at the view of the town, and seeing many folks look at him in particular.

“Howdy” said a waving Andserson at older Mississippians, who looked with one nodding his head. They walked inside the department, and went into a small office. “Good morning, my name’s Alan Ward. I’m with the FBI.” Ward showed his badge to a man named Clinton Pell, who looked and smirked at Ward, “Federal Bureau of Integration?” said a smartass Pell, “In that get-up, you ain’t exactly undercover, are you, now?” Pell smirked and wanted to laugh at him up and down.

“We’re here to see Sheriff Stuckey” said Ward giving a stern look, “sheriff’s busy now” said Pell looking at the badge one last time “you’ll have to wait or come back some other time” said Pell, feeling like they waisted his damn time already.

Ward nodded his head and smirked, “we’ll wait” said Ward sitting in a seat next to another officer. Anderson saw Ward was pissed off, and it made him done with Pell’s cocky attitude and seeing how he didn’t plan on bringing Stuckey’s ass out of the office. He looked at Pell and walked over, he leaned a little on the desk. “Now you listen to me, you backwoods shit-ass you, you got about two seconds to get the sheriff out here, or I’m gonna kick the goddamned door in, okay?” said Anderson smiling with a voice sounding like he wanted to throw him in the room that Stuckey was. Pell looked like he was insulted from the tone and voice that Anderson just gave, even Ward looked like he wanted to leave Anderson alone and get somebody else to help him.

“Well, hell, looks like we got some company” said Sheriff Stuckey who ate while talking. He looked to Anderson, “some Hoover boys come down to visit, how you doing?” asked Stuckey closer to Anderson, not really giving a damn about Ward, “good” said Anderson giving Ward a look to let him do the talking, “I’m Sheriff Stuckey” “Rupert Anderson”

“Rupert? We been expecting you” said Stuckey liking Anderson already, “uh-huh” “I assume you met my deputy, Mr Pell?” questioned Stuckey looking down at the young deputy who didn’t want them here, “sure did”

“You down here to help us solve our nigger problems?” questioned Stuckey wanting help from Anderson. “No. it’s just a missing-person case” said Anderson trying to play it off, even though he was starting to dislike the fucking sheriff, “hmm. Well, come on” said Stuckey pulling him in. “Say, you gonna want your boy in on this?” asked Stuckey looking down at Ward, who didn’t like the way he was being treated like a weak kid, “sheriff, I’m special Agent Ward, I’m in charge of this case.” Ward got up from his chair and spoke like he wanted to punch him in the jaw, “we think it might be a little more serious than a missing persons case”

“I don’t think so boy” said Stuckey, “in fact, you know what I think it is, it’s a publicity stunt cooked up by that Martin Luther King fella.” both men looked at one another, “come on.” Stuckey brought them in.

“At around 3:00 p.m, Deputy Pell says he arrested the three boys for speeding. He held them in jail until 10:00 p.m, and then released them, they drove off. He says he followed them as far as the county line, and never saw them again.” said Ward looking at Pell walk across the street and seeing how suspicious he is “why didn’t they make a phone call?” questioned a worried Ward.

“Why should they?” “Mr. Anderson, these boys were trained activists. They’re taught to check in every hour, and if they’re arrested, the moments they’re released from custody. The hotel’s two minutes from the jail. They could have phoned from the lobby. It just doesn’t follow” said Ward. “Maybe they went for a beer,” said Anderson, hoping Ward wasn’t right.

“Not these boys, the civil rights officer in Rossville started making calls as soon as they didn’t check in. The sheriff’s office here said they had no idea where the boys were, first lie” said Ward, seeing Pell made him want more answers. Anderson was shocked at how well the man knew backtracking from when it started to where it ended, he had to admit he was never that good at looking when he was young like Ward.

“By who? The sheriff’s office or civil rights office?” “who would you believe?” said Ward looking at Anderson giving him a glare, “Mr. ward, I don’t know if you knew it or not, but I was sheriff in a little Mississippi town just like this,” Anderson didn’t want to deal with his back talk or his remarks, “yes, I’m aware of that, Mr. Anderson” “well, lying just don’t come into it. We were right on the border, 10 miles from Memphis, and a million miles from the rest of the world. Now, if a sheriff in a little town like this says that’s what happened, then that’s what happened” said Anderson trying to shake sense into Ward. “let’s go eat” said Ward.

They walked in a cafe, “we’re full up right now, honey. Y’all wanna wait a while?” asked a waitress, “is the wait worth it?” asked Anderson trying to show kindness, “we’re not full for nothing, sugar. Y’all want to look at a menu while you wait?”

“Sure” “thank you” “well, what y’all gonna do, wait or leave?” “we’re gonna wait because we want to be near you?” said Anderson. Anderson looked and saw how shy Ward was and how he didn’t like to socialize as much, which made it funny to Anderson.

“There’s some empty seats down there?” said Ward heading to the back, “uh, Mr. Ward. that’s the colored down there. Don’t even think about it, there’s some people over there getting ready to leave right now” said Anderson, hoping Ward wouldn’t do anything foolish to be a fucking target.

“Aren’t you hungry, Mr. Anderson?” smirked Ward heading to sit down next to a young African American boy. Anderson stood in the front not wanting to start something. “Good afternoon, looks good. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions, I’m looking for some information?” The black man looked around and saw people warning him not to talk, “I ain’t got nothing to say to you sir” said the man trying to have peace. “Just a few questions.” The man got nervous and knew what would happen if he spoke a fucking word to any cop. “I ain’t got nothing to say to you, sir,” the man got up and moved. Anderson looked at Ward, “that man’s got balls, but the head of a sitting duck” said Anderson to himself, he wanted to grab Ward out of the place but knowing and seeing how unlucky that would be.

They got to a burnt down place, “three civil rights boys came here to propose setting up a voter registration clinic” said Ward looking at the gravel on the ground, “before the locals got a chance to say yes, the Klan burned them down”

“Give a man a vote, but don’t let him use it. That's the way it works. What’d their office in Rossville have to say?” questioned Anderson not wanting to be in the location and wanting to shake Ward and tell him what a bad idea he will get into. “They confirmed that the boys came back here to apologize to the congregation.” said Ward.

“Sorry you folks didn’t get to vote. I suppose most of you never knew you even had one, now you got no place to go on Sunday.” Anderson snickered knowing why people would do something like this, and Ward didn’t like the snickering.

“Apparently, after they came back here, they talked to some locals down the road. I think that’s where we should start.” ” Well, you can talk to them, but they won’t talk to you. These people have to live here long after we’re packed up and gone. They’d rather bite their tongue off than talk to us.” warned Anderson, trying to stop Ward from starting a fight they wouldn’t be able to stop. “Bureau procedure, Mr. Anderson”

“The church caught fire and you ran home, is that correct?” asked Ward to an older African American woman sitting in a chair. “Yes, sir” “then the four white men stopped you?” “yes sir.”  
Anderson looked down at her, and seeing the pain her husband went through, he didn’t like it, “these four white men attacked your husband?” “yes, sir” “but you can’t identify them?” 

The woman shook her head and Ward gave a nod to her, “no, sir” “did you report this to the police?” questioned Ward, “no sir” “but you told the civil rights boys what happened?” In the back, Anderson was silent and looked at Ward and saw how calm he was, which was never in Anderson’s book of interviewing people and suspects. It made him understand Ward’s ways, but still. “Yes sir” “ma’am, did they tell you where they were going after that?” asked a sad Ward with Anderson looking, “no sir” “nothing?” “no sir”

Ward stopped asking questions, seeing the lady didn’t want to talk anymore about the beating. “Alright, thank you ma’am” said Ward nodding his head, “you’re welcome.”


	3. Anderson's Story

Anderson and Ward stopped at the same motel that the three civil rights workers went to, in order to find more information. Anderson had to admit, Ward had enough balls to not be scared of people he barely knew, and a place that treated him like an outsider. But still, he didn’t like the way Ward was going, Anderson needed him to see that the way he talked wasn’t going to get them anywhere at any time or shit.

While they rested in a small room in the motel, Anderson saw Ward was very keen on this case. Looking at all three of the boys’ mugshots, and other photos. Ward had the face of both interest and fear of what happened to them, Anderson saw it but didn’t feel the same way.

“You admire these kids, don’t you?” asked Anderson, walking over to Ward and holding up papers. “Don’t you?” asked Ward, “I think they’re being used. I think they’re sent down here in their Volkswagens and their sneakers, just to get their heads cracked open.” Anderson knew he shouldn’t have said that about the missing boys, but he knew they were dead and knew they would end up as a fucking target for the Klan.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe they believed in what they were doing?” asked Ward, trying not to make it seem like he didn’t care about the boys, but he also didn’t care for what Anderson said about them as long as they found them alive. “Did it ever occur to them they were gonna end up dead?” Thought Anderson, looking at Ward and giving him a look as if a person was not letting your hopes up

“Maybe” said Ward not wanting to really talk to Anderson right now, “In Washington they sure as hell knew, didn’t they?” “some things are worth dying for,” said Ward. “Down here they see things a little differently. People down here feel some things are worth killing for.” said a sad Anderson, “where does it come from, all this hatred?” asked Ward to himself looking at a photo.

Anderson still couldn’t believe that this younger man still couldn't see, why people act the way they acted towards these particular people, and beating and lynching them. But, he understood why Ward didn’t understand, he was never brought up like him and seeing the pain both white and blacks go through in Mississippi.

“You know, when I was a little boy, an old Negro farmer lived down the road, name of Monroe. And he was, uh...I guess he was luckier than my daddy was. He bought himself a mule. That was a big deal around that town, my daddy hated that mule. His friends always kidded him about Monroe plowing with his new mule. And Mornoe was gonna rent another field now that he had a mule.” Anderson breathed out, Ward saw he was getting emotional which was surprising to him. “One morning that mule just showed up dead. They poisoned the water. After that, the mule wasn’t mentioned to my daddy. Just never came up.” Ward turned his head to Anderson, “Once, driving along, we passed Monroe’s place and it was empty. He packed and left. Gone up north or something. I looked over at my daddy’s face, and I knew he’d done it. He saw that I knew. He was ashamed, I guess he was ashamed. He looked at me and he said, ‘If you ain’t better than a nigger, who are you better than?’”

Anderson stopped talking, and couldn’t stop hearing his father’s words, “you think that’s an excuse?” asked Ward, getting from the bed and looking at Anderson like a person wanting more to the story. “No. It’s just a story about my daddy” chuckled Anderson, but looking like he hated his father. “Where’s that leave you?” questioned Ward, looking at Anderson, “with an old man so full of hate, that he didn’t know being poor was what was killing him,” said Anderson. He looked at Ward, and Ward didn’t know what to say. Anderson thought it was better to give him a lesson on the reality of Mississippi rather than shoot him in the fucking foot to explain it.

The window shattered open making them jump up, “get the light! Get the light!” shouted Anderson, Ward smacked it “you alright?” asked a worried Anderson. “I guess they know we’re here,” said Anderson. Ward ran out making Anderson shout his name so he wouldn’t get hurt.

“Now you know what you’re getting into,” said Anderson. Both men looked at a burning cross, “I’ll call Washington, I need more agents.” Anderson glared at Ward, thinking it was a mistake to grab in more people and possibly getting more people killed with it. “Make any difference if I say it’s the wrong thing to do?” said a glaring Anderson, “no.” Ward walked back making Anderson look at him, “fucker” said Anderson walking back in the room. Anderson knew Ward was smart to not get himself killed, but when it came to this situation and Ward not knowing how it fully runs, Anderson started to act more like an older brother towards Ward than Ward as his boss.


	4. Thinking from a Brother

Hours after the event with a gunshot through the window, and the cross that still burned outside the motel. Hell, many folks around it can smell it even if you were in the shower you can still smell the shit of ash and smoke.

While they slept in the same room, Ward couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t get the thoughts of the gunshots and the car that sped away out of his damn head. He looked to his left, and saw Anderson sleep with his gun tight on his chest, and his arm holding his head up. Ward couldn’t blame him, after almost getting their nuts blown off, they started to get antsy with a gun in hand and the fires started from the people wanting them out.

Ward wanted to understand how Anderson could deal with sleeping at a time when a war is being stricken with, but everytime he wanted to ask or was about to open his mouth to ask, Anderson would either threaten or blow him off with yelling and shouting like a rabid dog. He understood that Anderson was raised in hell, being poor. But never, and might never understand how he can sleep without being woken up thinking you hear guns being fired off, and thinking that everywhere you go in this small town of Mississippi is out to get you. “You alright over their Mr. Ward?” He jerked up a bit when he heard Anderson’s voice. His ears were still ringing after their window was blown off to shit, “your ears still ringing, or did they get blown off with your balls?” said Anderson with a voice that he meant it.

“Yes, thank you Mr. Anderson.” Anderson knew the younger man was lying, “I might be a dick to you Alan, but I have a bigger heart than any of these mother fuckers can muster in the deep south,” said Anderson. Ward looked at him and wondered why a man like Anderson, who hates the way he goes by the book decides to treat him like a “friend”

“A dick is an understatement, Mr. Anderson” said Ward looking over to the side. He saw Anderson smile and nod “you got a fair point their Mr. ward, folks always said I got it from my daddy.” Anderson shook his head, Ward still heard what Anderson said about his father killing an animal because his next door neighbor was African American, and the fact that being poor was hurting everyone in a small family “And I bet you got that smartass grin from him as well,” said Ward smirking at Anderson, “nah, got it from my ma, she was always the smart one.” They both laughed, Ward started to get goosebumps from the shattered window, “you want a coat too Mr. Ward, or a kiss to warm ya up?” said Anderson with a tone that sounded both smartass and punchable. “Never from you Mr. Anderson, never from you” said Ward.

“You were right on one thing Mr. Anderson” said Ward, “and what’s that, Mr. Ward?” questioned Anderson “That nothing is easy when I signed up for this shit, and how I was thinking it was going to be easy and swift with no cabaret” said Ward. “like I said son. That’s the Mississippian way. Always has been, and might stay that way till the day we die in the graves from a gunshot or fucking fire” said Anderson.  
Ward looked at Anderson who went back to sleep. Ward started to close his eyes, as he did, he started to whistle a tune which made Anderson open them and look and wonder, why the man signed up and not staying behind a goddamn desk.


	5. Searching The Swamp

The next morning after the burning of the cross at the motel, more FBI drove to the headquarters with more files they could pull and many inside getting started on the damn case. Anderson was amused by the way the agents moved around like mice, so he decided to sit in the back with a sandwich and coffee.

“The whole place for 75 a month. It’s private, it’s central, it’s perfect” said Ward smiling at how well they’re doing, “hmm, there’s room for 100 more agents, 200 maybe. More on the balcony” said Anderson smirking. “We’re just trying to find the boys, Mr. Anderson. I can take all the help I can get” said Ward walking down done with Anderson’s comedy. “When’s the show start?” questioned a smartass Anderson putting his feet on the seat.

Outside of the theater, Ward and Anderson stopped when they saw a bunch of cars with Confederate Flags, men in suits went into a meeting. “Who’s the big shot?” asked Ward confused, “It’s the Klan with pointy hats and their pointy heads” said Anderson having a larger tone looking down at Ward. “Let me have a check on the place,” said Ward heading over. Anderson saw the men shake hands and decided to stop looking at the men.

After an event with Anderson talking smart to the major of Mississippi and Sheriff Ray Stuckey, on why he came down and asking a few questions from barbershop women. Ward got information on a car the boys were driving and a man by the name of Clayton Towney being the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan they heard a car swerve in the street and saw an African American being thrown out of the side door.

“We’ll handle this, we don’t need your damn help. It ain’t right having blood in the streets, how’d that look in the news?” said a grinning Stuckey going off and other cops pulling the African American away. Anderson wanted to kill the life out of Ward, “that’s the kid from the diner, then maybe you’ll think twice before you talk to common kids with an audience” said a glaring angered Anderson

“They’re just sending a message from the big boss and you know it” said Ward with a larger tone pointing, “I know it and that’s Clayton Towney with pointy head” said Anderson. “That’s right, how did you know?” questioned Ward. “Bureau procedure, you better try it sometime” said Anderson wanting to strangle him to death and make sense out of him. “We did, we found the car the kids were driving.” said Ward walking off, Anderson stood there and looking surprised Ward found that information that quickly without batting an eye out for it.

They drove to a home, “good morning” said Ward, the man looked at Ward and after looking at his face, he knew what he needed “good morning” said the man putting down the fish and guiding them into the swamp to find the car. They started walking, but once they followed the man all the agents tried to keep steady in the water and tried to not fall in the swamp. They looked around till, Anderson and Ward stopped with big wide eyes, they saw the car. A tow truck came with Ward and Anderson looking down from not finding or seeing the mens’ bodies anywhere. Agent Bird came up, “two beer cans, coca cola, green plastic, barely burned wrist watch stopped at 12:45 with a set of keys. No bodies” said agent Bird. “I want the entire area searched. Every inch” said Ward not looking, “yes sir. It's a big swamp” said agent Bird sounding like it can’t be done “Every inch Mr. Bird.” “I guess they never left Mississippi” said Ward with Anderson holding the watch, “Mr. Bird!” “yes sir?” “There’s a telephone back at the truck stop, get to it and get me a hundred more men by morning!” said Ward. “a hundred, what bureau people sir?” questioned a tired agent Bird. “I don’t care if it’s the goddamn army, I want the entire swamp searched!” said an angry Ward wanting to throw something in the water.

“Don’t do it Mr. Ward, you’ll just start a war” said Anderson trying to warn him for what’s going to happen if more agents show up and start searching for something that might not be here in the first place. “There was a war before we ever got here” said Ward. Anderson shook his head and not wanting to deal with any of this. After giving the call, many Navy Men and agents started searching the swamp with many falling and small canoes being used. Many Navy men started searching the woods. Mississippians didn’t give a damn about the missing boys, saying it’s fake news.

Ward and Anderson drove to the same church that was burnt, only to stop when they saw a group praying and hoping they didn’t have to obey by the laws that swung around African Americans. “Hello, huh I wonder if I can ask you a few questions?” asked Ward to a father and his son. “Don’t suppose you can tell me what type of flower these are, could you? I’ve been seeing them all over the place here and huh, never saw such a pretty darn flower” said Anderson trying to lighten the mood

“There Trumpet pitchers” said the African American father wanting to be left alone with his family. “Trumpet Pitchers? There beautiful really beautiful. They don’t smell to good. It’s nice talking to ya sorry about interrupting your meeting here but we can’t seem to get anyone to talk to us, like a zip up like my mama used to say” said a smirking Anderson. “The reason why people don’t want to talk to you is because they're afraid it’ll get back to the law,” said the boy named Aaron. “We are the law” “not around here you ain’t” said the father pulling his son away, “we were sent here to find out what happened to those three boys, they were here to help you"

“It ain’t colored folks you should be talking to” said Aaron giving him business “who should we be talking to?” questioned Ward looking at the boy now. “You should start with the sheriff’s office” “why aren’t you afraid?” asked Ward to Aaron, “how come you ain’t?” questioned Aaron done and wanting to be done with staying any longer. Ward looked at Anderson who smiled and nodded to him.  
They stopped at the Pell’s home where Mrs. Pell let them in, “good evening Mrs. Pell, I’m agent Ward this is agent Anderson we work with the FBI. is your husband home we’d like to have a word with him?” asked Ward. “y'all come in then” said Mrs. Pell with a sad voice. They stepped inside and Clinton felt anger boil from just the sight of Ward and Anderson. “It’s the FBI Clinton, they want to ask you some more questions, is that alright? You want me to put your dinner in the oven?” asked Mrs. Pell a little scared of him.

“Leave us alone” said Clinton treating his wife like a stupid little maid, “mind if I take a seat?” “what’s so goddamn important you gotta bother me at home?” “I just want to run through some things on your whereabouts on June 21st” said Ward pulling out papers, “On June which?” “June 21st. Now deputy you know what day we’re talking about so let’s just be civilized and the sooner you can get back to your ballgame and we can get back to Washington. Anderson walked and started talking to Mrs. Pell in a slow and gentleman manner not wanting to impose. It made her smile, “Mr. Anderson” called Ward making Anderson go back to his train of thought “it’s nice talking to ya” said Anderson to Mrs. Pell “guess I got to go”

“If those pork chops are any good can you get me a beer?” “good night, let’s get back to baseball.” He shut the door and Ward and Anderson got to the car, “fifty minutes of his alibi he just owned his wife. You talk to her, what was she like?” “nice lady” “tell me Mr. Anderson, how does a woman like that end up with”

“With a shit in there? You know these small towns are like. Girl spends her entire time in high school looking for the guy she’s gonna marry and spend her life trying to figure out WHY.” After Ward was feeling bad for Mrs. Pell, Anderson showed him that Clinton and his usher friends had three fingers pointed down in their belt buckle pointing down to symbolize the KKK.


End file.
